EPISODE 13
Of course, the restaurant from Hell below was one of
those bad ones. Mme HEART skimped and
did not hire a chef who had worked in a proper restaurant. Instead, her Asian cook was from a minor
takeaway stand. She never cared about
running a legitimate restaurant pleasing the clients with honest food and good
service. You can make a quick profit by
setting up a restaurant on a shoestring budget, giving it a facelift and
selling it to another restaurateur at a high Paris price. The difference will be the profit. My lawyer searched and verified that Mme.
HEART had amassed wealth by repeating this scheme.
The restaurant was sparsely occupied. So, to give the impression of 'Happening
place' to the potential buyers of the bogus restaurant Mme. HEART played music
loud till late; more nuisance added to the turbo vibration that shook my
apartment and the kitchen noises. My
health got eroded day by day. I was at
an utter disadvantage while Mr PRIDE slept well at night while the hefty rent
was hitting his bank account. I was not
even in his thought.
My judgment was fragile when Mme suggested another plan
by Mme HARMONY. My lawyer needed to know
more about the situation of the building, and Mme. HARMONY had the
information. So I invited her to a
meeting with my lawyer. She talked for
over two hours, costing me a lawyer's time which is never free, but she
was my friend. She had been fighting Mr
PRIDE alone, and I was too happy to provide professional help to ease her
burden. She had a plan to which she could
not get other landlords in the building to participate, but now she had the
listening ears.
There is another regulation Mme. HEART was going to breach: it was to fulfil all the promises she made to the authority called BASU regarding minimization of the annoyance to the neighbours. If this was not met and anyone complained to the authority within two months of the restaurant's opening, their license may be revoked. Well…I know firsthand Mme HEART had not done anything right, but to inform the authority, I had to launch a lawsuit. I was prepared to pay legal fees to suppress the noise, but to rob Mr PRIDE of the permit? A quiet decent restaurant would be enough. But Mme. HARMONY egged me on.
'The restaurant will create more problems. Thus it is better for you and everyone in the building that Mr. PRIDE loses his license.' Yet those same 'everyone in the building' did not want to spend a cent themselves. Why on earth should I have to pay for all the legal fees to drive out Mr PRIDE?
It was finally two days away from the two months expiry date. I submitted my report to my lawyer, but all the muscles around my neck and shoulder had become stiff by this time. I could not take any more bashing…but then it happened, the first blast of music and disco beats rippled through the walls of the old medieval buildings. It used up so much electricity that the light on the stair hall went out, and one of my power points was burnt. Earplugs, earmuffs, nothing helped. I crawled to the kitchen corner, but the beats kept attacking me. I could hear the guests downstairs cheer repeatedly, not knowing of my predicament.
It went on until 03:00 am or longer. I would not know because I passed out. I woke up the following day. With a heavy foggy head, I staggered out of my apartment. I saw a young French woman who spoke English.
'Last night was horrible, no? I went down to complain, but they would not stop.'
I asked her to whom she spoke, and wouldn't you know it? 'He was an Asian man.' So, please do not judge me when I did not feel any sympathy towards him when he was later seen thrown out of the restaurant. Mme. HEART stole the credit for his Asian-French menu and gave it to her new chef. However, she didn't gain much because two French men passed by the restaurant one day. 'Look, they serve Japanese-style food, but I hear it tastes fake.'
Parisians can't be fooled. Insolence in their voice sounded cool to me.
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